


ready, set, win

by darkmillennium



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Banter, Dorks in Love, Established Relationship, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Michael Possessing Adam Milligan, POV Adam Milligan, adam milligan is a little shit, adam's gonna get GAINS, featuring both sides of the midam relationship being competitive as hell, there's probably subtext for something else in here somewhere if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:38:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24740167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkmillennium/pseuds/darkmillennium
Summary: Adam had done it, at long last.It was something he’d been trying to do since the days of the Cage, a little game of his own making to keep him busy and entertained. It had taken him over three hundred and fifty years, a distracting movie, and some sneaking around, but he’d finally done it.He’d managed to snatch Michael’s archangel blade.—Based on the tumblr prompt: "Very cute, now give that back."
Relationships: Michael/Adam Milligan
Comments: 11
Kudos: 187





	ready, set, win

**Author's Note:**

> this.....now THIS fic i like. extremely much. this one is *chef kiss* amazing if i do say so myself. i've been listening to so much florence + the machine lately so if you catch any hints of sexual undertones anywhere through here you're probably absolutely right.

Adam had done it, at long last.

It was something he’d been trying to do since the days of the Cage, a little game of his own making to keep him busy and entertained. It had taken him over three hundred and fifty years, a distracting movie, and some sneaking around, but he’d finally done it.

He’d managed to snatch Michael’s archangel blade.

In the grand scheme of the universe, this wasn’t that big of a win—Michael would’ve just _handed him_ the thing if Adam had asked, he’s pretty sure—but what makes it so fulfilling is that he’d actually managed to catch Michael’s razor-sharp reflexes off-guard long enough to actually be able to swipe it. _That_ was something worth celebrating. And he knows that Michael could just magic it right back into his own hands, back into the separate reality where it normally lays until the archangel has use for it, but instead, Michael’s just standing on the other side of the kitchen table—palms pressed flat against the wooden surface, face sparkling with barely-contained amusement.

Meanwhile, Adam’s standing opposite him, twirling the blade between his fingers. It seems so light, for something that can do so much damage, and Adam can _feel_ the sheer amount of power behind it—he can make a guess as to how big it actually is, when Michael uses it in his true form, and it’s almost enough to make him shiver—so, even as he’s eyeing Michael back with impishness dancing across his features, he’s also got one eye on the blade. He doesn’t exactly want to take off one of his fingers, after all. 

“Very cute,” Michael says, and there is a degree of ascendancy in his tone that could and would have anyone else on Earth cowering, but those people are not Adam—they cannot see the hints of laughter, of pride, of _love_ that it also carries. “Now give that back.”

Adam, cradling the handle in one hand and tracing the curved design of the blade with his other, cocks his eyebrow and tilts his head to the side. 

“After I spent so long trying to get it? Nah, I think I’m good.” He gives the weapon a few experimental swings as Michael watches with a sharp eye, probably to make sure that he doesn’t accidentally impale himself. Then, an idea enters his brain, one that Adam has to voice but _knows_ he’ll probably regret later if Michael agrees to it, because it’s probably going to end with him getting his ass handed to him. Multiple times. 

“You should teach me how to fight.”

The archangel looks entirely taken aback. “ _Y_ _ou?_ ” 

“Yeah,” Adam begins, slowly, testing the words out on his tongue. He doesn’t really blame Michael for sounding a bit patronizing—Adam doesn’t _like_ fighting. He was stuck in a Cage with two archangels that were practically war-torn by the time they were done with each other, and that tends to kill off someone’s will or desire to fight. Adam likes healing people, fixing things, the way that his mother had done before him. It’s why he’s working on becoming a registered nurse right now—a decision he finally made after realizing that there were online programs for it. He’s good at it, good at what he does.

But he also knows that life doesn’t always go the way you plan it. And Michael and him might get separated, one day, as much as the thought makes his heart seize up, and if that happens Adam needs to know how to properly defend himself because—knowing his luck—he’d probably end up in a situation where he’ll have to fight for his life. 

Because, number one, he’s related to the Winchesters (and being related to a Winchester is what got him eaten alive in the first place) and, number two, someone might try to use him against Michael. And he can’t have that, would rather die before he lets himself be _used_ by anyone for anything, but especially not for _that_. He says as much to Michael, who’s got a contemplative frown on his face. He doesn’t like the thought of being separated either, but he’s a soldier who’s entirely aware of the world they live in—he knows that shit might go down, and, when it does, they have to be prepared. Both of them.

“Besides,” Adam says, almost as an afterthought, “you’ve trained entire garrisons of angels, before, right? How hard can one human be?”

Michael’s face softens, adopting that fond look of his that Adam’s grown so, _so_ used to by now; and, yet, he still finds himself wanting to reach over and kiss it off. The only reason he doesn’t do so is because he belatedly remembers that he’s still holding the precious object he’d schemed for over three hundred years to get and Michael might just take the opportunity to steal it back.

“How hard, indeed,” the archangel affirms, almost tenderly, before his face returns back to the daring expression from earlier. “Of course, you’d have to actually be able to keep up. Think you can do it, _kid?”_

And _that,_ right there, is a challenge if Adam’s ever heard one, and he’s not the most competitive guy in world—he doesn’t really get that fired up over anything except for a few choice subjects, not really, not anymore—but any challenge issued by Michael, specifically, makes Adam want to rise up and fucking _win_. It’s kind of funny, honestly—he’s seen Michael do the same whenever Adam issues one as well. It’s probably a result of all their games in the Cage, where they had nothing better to do except play games of chance and luck and strategy against each other until both their heads were spinning from made-up, complicated rules, created after normal rules got boring. Adam thinks it’s fun. Michael probably _thrives_ off of it, the give-and-take dynamic, because he has been and always will be the angelic equivalent of those people who wake up and go to the gym at five in the morning. 

“Bring it, _old man_.”

**Author's Note:**

> comments are much appreciated!!!! have a great day :)
> 
> my tumblr is @adammilligan!!


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